The Finish Line

 

Years after his Olympic appearances, Frank Shorter, a gold and silver medalist marathoner, ran a race in Seattle. He finished out of the top 20 runners. As he was preparing to leave, another runner approached him. “Hey, aren’t you Frank Shorter?”

To which Frank replied, “No … but I used to be.”

Frank’s “glory days” are over, he will never cross an Olympic finish line again. Instead Frank is successfully crossing a new finish line – Race4Kids’ Health. Frank uses his experiences as a runner and as a victim of child abuse to connect children with the power of health. He explains, “What I’m trying to do through my work with Healthy Learning Paths, is to show kids how to use healthy habits like good diet and exercise to better their social and emotional health and their resiliency—to run toward a solution and not just away from a problem.”

We – like Frank - will grow old and slow and our finish lines will change. But there is one finish line everyone must cross. Loved ones will die and, in our own time and in our own way, we, too, will cross life’s finish line. How will we choose to experience it?

Runner Dr. George Sheehan was diagnosed with metastatic prostate cancer in 1986. In January 1993 he learned that his hormone treatment was no longer working, the cancer had gone into “fast forward”. George then needed radiation just to control the pain. At that time he was still ambulatory but could no longer run. He said, “My mission now is to deal with cancer, its therapy, and all the implications, and tell others what it is like.”

Success for George shifted from running to becoming the best George he could be. He chose to continue his search for meaning and truth, asking – “After I die, what?” which led to “Before I die, what?” He continued writing and reading extensively while he explored Quakerism, philosophy, and discovered anthropology. Two months before he died, George registered for a college-level anthropology course.

His running days were over but he made the best of his situation through reading, exploring new ideas and writing about his experience. George’s attitude towards his situation embodied the words of Holocaust survivor, Dr. Viktor Frankl, “Any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him – mentally and spiritually.”

On November 1, 1993 George successfully crossed his finish line.

“In giving me cancer, fortune had smiled on me. Pain was key to opening up to a new and larger life. The interests of my past are still present, but now finally seen in perspective.”- Dr. George Sheehan

 

Perhaps more difficult than facing our own death, is dealing with the death of a loved one. Often we have to make decisions for someone who is unable to decide for themselves how and when they will cross their finish line. 

In 2003, my father was not feeling well and was admitted to the hospital. During phone calls with my mother, she insisted he was “fine.” Fortunately, my older sister called me to tell me Dad was not “fine” – he was dying.

I flew from Virginia to Illinois and went with my mother to the hospital. Dad was not responsive, he would occasionally open his eyes but only stared at the ceiling. I don’t know if he even knew I was there. No matter how much my mother wanted him to be “fine,” or how often the nurses checked him or gave him medication through his IV, Dad was not going to “get better.”

Mom and I sat in the room with him, talking as if he was “fine.” Then, as I drove her home at the end of the day, I told her I wanted to call my siblings to let them know they should come and see Dad because I thought he was nearing the finish line. “No!” she shouted, “He’s going to be fine!”

The next day we were sitting with Dad when his doctor asked us to meet with him in a consultation room. “We need to know if you want a do-not-resuscitate order,” he said.

Mom immediately said, “No!” Then she began sobbing. “I don’t want to fail him, we have to keep him alive.”

Patiently, and with precise details, his doctor explained exactly what would happen if the nurses attempted to resuscitate Dad.

I asked, “If you successfully resuscitate Dad, what then? Will his health be restored?”

“No.” the doctor answered, “We will just be prolonging the dying process.” He then explained Dad’s deteriorating physical condition. They had done all they could.

“Do not resuscitate,” I said. I looked at Mom and, through her tears, she nodded her agreement. Then I began calling my siblings.

Dad crossed his finish line on March 19, 2003 with several of his children at his bedside, holding his hands.

We did “the best” we could for Dad. The decision not-to-resuscitate due to his physical condition was informed and made in consultation with his doctor. Then we surrounded Dad with as much love as possible as he crossed his finish line. “The best” we could do for ourselves was to choose to be in control of our attitude towards our father’s death.

Dealing with death shifts the terms of success. “The best” often is not what we may want, nor wish for, and it can be extremely painful. In the worst situations our attitude may be the only thing we can control while in better situations we have more options from which to choose.

Many challenges will confront us as we move closer to our finish line. We will not always be healthy, we will grow old, we will experience the death of loved ones and, ultimately, our own turn to cross life’s finish line.  Regardless of the situation, we choose our attitude towards our experience. We are always free to “decide what shall become of us – mentally and spiritually.”